


‘Tis the Season

by winterwonderland



Category: Spartacus Series (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff and Humor, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, One Shot Collection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-22
Updated: 2014-12-22
Packaged: 2018-03-02 21:29:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2826743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/winterwonderland/pseuds/winterwonderland
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of Christmas-themed, unrelated one-shots.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Christmas Touch

**Author's Note:**

> Was cleaning the laptop and found these old one-shots, so here you go. And I promise I'll leave these poor boys in peace after this. For now, anyway. ;)

 

Nasir wrote the last few lines of the e-mail, pressed ’send’, and closed the window. That was the last of those done. He leaned back in his chair and looked up from the computer to the darkened sky behind the window as his fingers started a tap dancing routine on the desk surface. He checked the time and sighed; even after all of that he still had a good fifteen minutes before the start of the rounds. Goddammit.

It was a lost cause.

He pushed himself off the chair, grabbed his coat by the doorway and walked out into the corridor.

The harsh artificial lights were giving him a headache as usual, and he rubbed his tired eyes as he made his way towards the break room. He nodded a greeting to Chadara as he walked in and then swiftly ignored the look she gave him when he poured a mugful of coffee and turned to go again, waving her and her knowing smile goodbye as he walked out.

The patio door closed softly behind him, and the air hitting him was colder than he had thought it would be. He wrapped the coat around him a little tighter, not that the cotton-polyester blend offered much warmth, and started down the few steps to the small interior yard. A string of curses came from the back and Nasir couldn’t help but smile to himself.

The other man was standing on a ladder propped against the side wall; he finished hanging the last piece of garland at the top and then proceeded to jump down with surprising agility for a man of his build. Not that Nasir was noticing his build at all. At all.

The man was holding bundle of cords and light strings in his hands and evidently it was this tangled mess that still had him cursing like a sailor in a sea storm.

“That’s not the kind of language you hear that often on a children’s ward, I have to say.”

The man turned around in surprise, looking slightly alarmed at the sight of Nasir and also somewhat embarrassed it seemed. It was dark out, but Nasir could almost swear he was blushing.

“Shit, I’m sorry, Doc. I didn’t mean to–”

Nasir waved the concern off with a smile.

“Well, it’s not like there are that many children around at this time.”

“Yeah, I guess.” The man smiled hesitantly. “I was just having a little trouble with the fine-tuning. Fingers are finally starting to protest to the weather.” He was rubbing his hands together, warming them up, when Nasir suddenly remembered what he was doing there in the first place.

“Here. This might help.”

The man took the mug happily, quickly wrapping his fingers clumsily around the warmth. “Thanks, man. Pretty much exactly what I needed right now.” He was grinning wider, with his dimples showing, and Nasir had to give himself a mental slap to help him to remember he was supposed to be a serious professional, not a crushing teenager.

“I really should be thanking you, to be fair. This is an amazing thing you’re doing. Tomorrow’s party means the world to the kids. It’s all they’ve been talking about for most of December.”

“Well, as much as I’d like to take the credit, this was a group effort, you know,” the man said still smiling, “I’m just here to finish up.” He was sipping the coffee as they were talking, and then proceeded to blow on it to cool it down.

Nasir was barely able to catch the pathetic whimper before it made its way out his mouth.

“Anyway, you should hold the gratitude until we at least know if the lights work or not.” He walked over to the power box, coffee in hand. “Let’s just hope we don’t blow a fuse with this. A blackout in a hospital might not go down well.” Evidently Nasir’s shock showed on his face, as he quickly added, “It’s a separate circuit that has its own generator, don’t worry. I’ve done this thing before. I’m sure we can get this done with no casualties.” He took the switch and walked back over to Nasir. “Okay, Doc. Here we go.”

Nasir wasn’t sure what he had been expecting the holiday lights to be this year, but this wasn’t exactly it.

The whole thing had started as a favor from a friend who had a husband with a flair for DIY who in turn had a friend – well, _this_ particular friend – who owned a hardware store and was able to part with a few light bulbs and electric fixtures. It was always going to be a small and modest effort, and so, in other words, Nasir was not exactly waiting for that much, to be honest.

His eyes followed the canopy of fairy lights suspended over their heads all the way to the two poor leafless trees down the back that were themselves now covered in red and green from top to bottom, the garlands on the two walls twinkled with lights as well, and then of course there was the big freaking Christmas tree in the corner, blinking and twinkling in red and gold.

Nasir was the least Christmassy person he knew, and even he had to admit that this patch of dead grass between the CCU and radiology had never looked better. It was actually a little beautiful, and he was more than convinced the children would love it all.

“Thank you,” he said again, quietly, suddenly feeling uncharacteristically overcome as he turned his head from the decorations to the man beside him. “Honestly, I don’t know what to say, this is…”

“It was my pleasure.” He was still smiling but there was a sudden softness to his face now as he stared into his coffee mug. “I’ve seen what you do here for the kids, my nephew won’t stop going on about all of you. This is the least I could do.”

“Your nephew?”

“Yeah, Pete…well, Peter, Peter Klein. He was transferred here from–”

“Pittsburgh, right?”

The man looked up from the mug surprised. “Yeah. My brother moved back last month. Thankfully they got a spot for him straightaway at oncology, he’s…”

Nasir kept nodding along. “LCH, wasn’t it? Two years in, relapse in June?”

The other man lowered the coffee in his hands and turned to look at him in a sort of awe. “Wow. You just memorize all your patients’ history like that? I’d probably forget my head if it wasn’t attached, you know? Probably the reason I’d make a lousy doctor.” He stopped and shook his head with a widening grin. “Okay, that’s probably not the _only_ reason.”

Nasir couldn’t help but smile in return. He shifted his eyes to the power box by the wall with its intricate web of chords and plugs and cocked his head towards it. “And if you’d let me anywhere near _that_ I’d just electrocute myself and burn the building down. We all have our uses.”

“Well, I still think your whole saving-lives-thing is a little bit more important, but thanks. And thanks for the coffee, as well, it was really nice of you to…” He was handing the mug back to Nasir when he noticed the black greased fingerprints all over the white surface. “Oh, shit. I just fucked up your…” He tried to wipe the marks with the edge of his sleeve, but only ended up making the smudges bigger. “God…I’m so sorry. Fuck. This is why I’m usually not allowed to touch things. Well anything of value, anyway. I’ll get you a new one.”

Nasir reached out and took the mug out of his hands with a less than subtle eye roll. “It’s fine. I’m sure it’ll come off in the wash. And it’s not exactly the finest china…” His voice trailed off when he felt something cold hit his face, a fleeting thing, barely enough to register, but then it happened again. And again. He looked up and soon had to blink away the snowflakes gathering on his lashes.

“I didn’t know it was supposed to be snowing today.”

“It wasn’t,” Nasir answered as the two of them peered up to the sky. He couldn’t help himself, so he chuckled and turned back to face the man beside him. “Evidently you have a real Christmas touch. If this is what you do, I hope you’re coming by tomorrow to the party. We might need these special powers of yours.”

“Well, in that case I have to, don’t I? Maybe I’ll bring some reindeers with me as well.” He winked, and that, along with his beaming smile, was enough for Nasir.

Goddammit.

It was a lost cause.

“I’m Agron, by the way, I don’t think I’ve had the chance to properly introduce myself. Crixus and me were pretty busy yesterday. ” He offered his hand, but then quickly yanked it away before Nasir had had time to come out of his daze enough to respond. “Sorry.” He looked down at his hands and frowned. “Probably best not do that and get this grease all over you as well.”

Nasir realized just how bad he had when he found himself thinking that he would quite _like_ that. And now he was probably flushed red like a tomato. Great. He cursed his overactive capillaries and thanked god it was dark out.

He forced out a strained laugh and made a show of checking his watch. “Yes, well…probably not…Anyway, I better get going, rounds start in less than five. Thank you again, really. And…uh, it was nice meeting you…Agron. Good to be able to put a name to the…uh…face.”

He realized he was stammering and most likely not making much sense. And although Agron was still looking at him with a smile, his expression was growing a little more confused with every stuttered word. He scratched his stubble absentmindedly, and that was the last straw for Nasir. There were now black marks running on the man's face, and Nasir turned to go and quickened his step. It was _that_ close he would have leaned in and wiped the stains away himself.

“So... I will see you tomorrow then, Doc?”

Nasir stopped, hand on the door handle, and looked over his shoulder.

“Sure,” he said and met Agron’s hesitant smile, “And please, just call me Nasir.”


	2. Deck the Halls

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There’s one use of a homophobic slur in this and a brief reference to homophobia (in a high school/college setting).

 

"Hey, you!”

Agron looks up startled and then looks around him stupidly before letting his eyes return to the boy standing on the stage.

“Yeah, you.”

Nasir is smiling and Agron’s stomach decides to grow wings.

“D’you think you could help me with something for a sec?”

Agron frowns in pure confusion but puts the box of decorations down anyway, and walks to the foot of the stage. He hauls himself up easily enough, and gives himself a mental pat on the back – not that he is wanting to impress anyone, but still – and scrambles to his feet.

“Yo, _dude_! You’re giving us a show now?” Donar’s voice comes from up the rafters where he and Lugo are still installing the lights. Agron flips him off and returns his attention to Nasir.

“Okay, just stand right here.” Nasir is pointing at a spot on the floor next to him. “And don’t worry, I’m not making you do Shakespeare or anything, only checking lighting and stuff. It’s just your body I’m aft–” He stops abruptly and his eyes go wide before he closes them and gives out a sigh. “ _Anyway_ … You just need to stand here for a minute, that’s all.”

Agron stares at him for a moment longer, and though his reluctance hasn’t quite yet disappeared, he walks up to his designated spot anyway. Nasir keeps looking somewhere over at the balcony and then gives a thumbs-up and suddenly there’s a bright light shining straight into Agron’s eyes. It takes the lighting guy a moment to adjust the spotlight, so Agron shields himself with his arm and looks to his side, only to find Nasir there, and the boy’s gaze unashamedly sliding up his frame. Agron doesn’t quite know how to take that.

“How tall _are_ you, exactly?”

_Oh, okay. Of course._

“Uh, six-foot… something. I guess. Why?”

At that, Nasir’s eyes find Agron’s face again, and he looks a little startled at first and it’s almost as if he is even blushing a little, but then again there is a bright studio light still in Agron’s eyes, so he can’t really say for sure.

But before either of them have time to address Agron’s height in any more detail, there is a sudden crashing sound behind them that has them turn around in unison.

Half of the back curtain is now down, and it seems Donar is not taking it so well. At least if his cussing is anything to go by.

“What the fuck are you playing at, Lugo?”

“Nothing! It came off on its own! And it’s these stupid little lights, I can’t…What did you call them…prairie lights? Why the fuck are they called prairie lights, anyway? That makes no goddamn sense.”

They can hear Donar laughing all the way down to the floor of the stage.

“Fairy lights, Lugo. _Fairy_ lights.”

“Who you calling a fairy? I’m no fucking fairy, man. I _look_ like a fag to you?”

Agron cringes at the word involuntarily and then quickly turns away, having heard enough.

There are days when he honestly thinks he’s being silly with being in the closet still. Okay, coming out would have repercussions, his football career for one – missed recruitment opportunities and sponsors and all that shit – but then maybe he could at least be open to his friends about it. It is the 21st century, after all; things are changing. People are being gay all over the place; hell, _Nasir’s_ probably been out since fifteen and it doesn’t seem to be doing him any harm.

However, those days are always followed by days like these; his friends fighting over fairy lights and snickering and else over Christmas songs that promise to make the yuletide gay; and he ends up saying nothing. Just closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, and joins in with the crudest joke of them all. And then goes home to cry in the corner. Sometimes even metaphorically.

Now maybe, was he not always so quick to shut off from his friends at moments like these, he would now see the pointed look Donar shoots his way, and the very efficient kick that follows and leaves Lugo whimpering. But then, unfortunately, Agron is not one to notice such subtle things at the best of times.

So, instead he just sighs and steps back into the spotlight that is now thankfully aimed at the floor and not his face and wonders how long he’s supposed to stand there anyway, and if later he could just slip out the back without Naevia noticing and just get the fuck out of this place and forget all about…

“Here.”

He looks at the piece of paper suddenly shoved in his hands and his frown deepens. He turns to Nasir but the boy is scowling and avoiding his eyes.

“What do you want me to do with this?”

“Well, I just thought since you’re already here, and I need to do a sound check of sort, and this is the fastest way...You read through that, and I’ll see if it’s loud enough to the back without a microphone.” Nasir is speaking as he walks away, his back already on Agron and his still quite puzzled face.

“Uh, I don’t think I’m–”

“You _can_ read, right?” Nasir snaps at him over his shoulder. “Or is that not a requirement for the football team?”

Agron throws a dirty glance at the boy’s receding back and contemplates a retort in the same vein, when Nasir abruptly stops and gives out a sigh deep enough to make his shoulders sag a little.

“Sorry, I…” He turns around to face Agron with a pained expression. “It’s just nerves and…everything.” His eyes drift up to the back rafters for a split second before dropping down to the ground. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be such an asshole. It’s not your problem.” He shakes his head and groans. “And now you’re probably going to say you’re dyslexic or something. God.” Slowly, he raises his eyes to Agron’s again accompanied with a lopsided smile, “Would serve me right, I guess.”

”I’m not dyslexic. And I can read _fine_ , thanks.”

Agron tries to find an edge to his voice, but he also knows he’s failing miserably. There’s a grin threatening to split his face if he’s not careful.

“I leave you alone for just one minute and you’re already joining the fucking drama club,” Crixus suddenly snorts behind him, peering over his shoulder at the page in his hands. “What the fuck, dude? Poetry? That’s some weak shit, man.”

Agron tries his best not to flinch, clenching his jaw to keep his response to himself. Nasir, however, doesn’t seem to share his inclination. He turns to Crixus with a deadpan face.

“I’ll promise to take your comments into consideration. Though, the poems _were_ Naevia’s choice, to be fair. But I’ll relay your opinion to her, if you’d like. I’m sure she’ll be interested in hearing how _weak shit_ her ideas are. _Very_ interested, actually.”

Agron can sense Crixus stepping back behind him, and when he turns to look at him, he swears he has never seen his fellow linebacker looking quite as scared as at that moment. Math finals and playoffs included. Agron has to bite the inside of his mouth to keep his own expression in check.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” Nasir continues with a wry smile, “So, if that was all, I’d like to get this sound check done, if you don’t mind. We all have better shit to do, am I right?”

Crixus barely nods, his eyes still a little wide and blinking rapidly as he turns on his heels and quickly walks off the stage.

“Okay, where were we? Right. Just start from the top, and try to be as loud as you can without actually shouting, okay? I’ll walk up to the last row and back and we’ll see where we are with this. And thanks again.” He leaves Agron with a barely-there pat on the arm, and walks to the edge of the stage and then jumps down to the floor. Agron can only stare at his back in a sudden daze.

Fuck if he hasn’t just fallen in love a little bit.

“Ready when you are.”

Agron blinks and clears his throat and does his best to get his act together, then ducks his head, burying his face into the paper in his hand, hoping that no one is looking closely enough to see how his cheeks are burning.

“Right…” his throat is tight and he has to cough again. And then swallow a bit to ease the dryness. He takes a deep, shaky breath. Fucking hell. Better just get this thing over with; Nasir is right, they all have better shit to do.

“‘Twas a night before Christmas, when all through the house…”

To be honest, he doesn’t really need the words written down in front of him to know how the poem goes. It is a family favorite, so he’s heard it enough times in his life to probably be able to recite it from memory if need be. Especially after his younger brother suddenly developed a very invested and wildly age inappropriate interest in 19th century English literature at five years old. So for the past two weeks, Agron has spent endless moments with the little boy, crammed on his narrow hospital bed, as they’ve made up their own versions of the poem: silly and stupid and barely rhyming, with Agron putting on an English accent that is – and Agron is perfectly willing to admit it himself – probably the worst English accent the world has ever heard. It never fails to make his brother smile even wider, though, so Agron is more than happy to comply.

“…As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fl–”

His throat constricts enough that he has to stop and cough to clear the tightness away and start the line over again. He glances quickly around him to make sure no one is looking and then hastily rubs his eye with the edge of his sleeve. He makes a mental note to skip the movies tonight and make an extra trip to the hospital later instead.

When he is finally done a few minutes later, Agron looks up from the paper to see Nasir staring back at him, standing at the foot of the stage. He has his hands deep in his pockets and the weirdest expression on his face. The boy actually looks a little horrified.

“So, how was that?” Agron asks and gives a little nervous laugh for no good reason. “That sounded okay?”

Nasir is still looking at him so strangely that it makes Agron slightly worried, and the boy seems to be a little flushed as well. Agron just hopes he isn’t coming down with something this close to his big night. That would be a shame. He and Naevia have been working hard at getting the play together.

Nasir hoists himself back on the stage and starts closer, a hesitant smile playing on his lips.

“Yeah, you…you sounded really nice…” He stops and clears his throat, his eyes darting between Agron’s face and the wall behind. “I mean… _It_ sounded nice…good, it sounded good. You have a really n–uh…your voice, I mean, it’s…”

Agron keeps growing more and more confused the longer Nasir keeps stumbling over his words. Finally, the other boy just stops talking altogether and rubs his face with a groan.

“It sounded fine,” he concludes curtly, snapping the paper from Agron’s hand. “Thank you.”

He is about to walk off, but suddenly hesitates mid-step and then spins back around again, face softening. Well, maybe only a fraction, but Agron is willing to take anything he can get at this point.

“I’m Nasir, by the way.”

“Yeah, I know.”

He smiles at the surprise on the other boy’s face and then smiles a little wider. Just in case.

“Agron.”


	3. Home For Christmas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for sugary content. Also, I guess technically this is a two-shot, but don’t tell anyone.

 

Agron paid the driver and got out of the cab, cringing as the rain hit his face. He swung the bag over his shoulder and pulled up the collar of his jacket as much as he could as he made his way to the front door. It seemed he was bringing the rain with him everywhere he went nowadays. Well, at least it matched his mood.

He ran his hand through his hair, trying to shake off the lingering raindrops as he walked through the small lobby and continued up the stairs, his shoes leaving wet marks on the floor. Once he got to their door, he hesitated, playing with the keys in his hands for a few seconds, suddenly feeling like a truant teenager.

He caught the time on his watch and sighed.

It wasn’t that he dreaded going in, he had missed his family way too much for that, but it was ten p.m., on Christmas Eve of all days, and he had promised to be home yesterday the latest. And he very well knew his Christmas week convention trip – as work related as it was – had not exactly been his husband’s favorite thing in the world to begin with.

Now, unfortunate timing aside, it had been a good trip, though, networking wise, and career-future-wise, and…

All thoughts on networking opportunities quickly vanished from his head the minute he stepped inside the apartment and took in the scene in front of him. To be honest, at that moment Agron could not for the life of him remember or understand why he had ever agreed to go in the first place. And leave this? What the hell had he been thinking?

He had taken care opening the door as gingerly as possible so not to wake anyone, but now that same door slammed shut forgotten behind his back. He groaned inwardly as the sound echoed in the room, rousing the pair asleep on the couch.

“Daddy, Daddy!”

The little girl quickly scrambled off the couch, and off her father, nearly tripping over the hem of her nightdress as she ran across the floor and into Agron’s arms.

“And what are you doing out of bed at this time, young lady?” Agron tried to frown but it was a futile attempt, especially when he noticed the Steelers logo on his daughter’s nightwear. “And why are you wearing my clothes?”

But she just giggled in response hiding her face in Agron’s sweater. “I was waiting up for Santa.”

“Uh-huh.”

“And you. I’ve missed you Daddy, I’ve missed you a whole lots.” She proceeded to kiss him on the cheek but then suddenly pulled back in apparent disgust as she wrinkled her nose at him. “Ew! Why are you wet? And why do you have a beard? Crissus was here today with Brice and he had a beard, too. I don’t like beards. Uncle Duro doesn’t have a beard, and neither does Baba.”

“Santa’s got a beard,” Agron helpfully reminded her.

“But your beard’s itchy.”

Agron could not help but chuckle at her scrunched up face, kissing her back on her nose, eliciting another squirm from his little girl. “Sorry, sweet pea,” he said offering an appeasing smile as he rubbed the offended nose affectionately with his thumb, “I’ll shave it off for tomorrow, promise.”

“Okay, Ada, I think we’ve been up long enough. Time to go to bed, right sweetie? You know Santa’s not going to bring any presents if we don’t get some sleep before he’s here.”

Agron raised his gaze to look over his daughter’s head, a hint of a smirk creeping up his lips. He could easily remember the time when Nasir had lectured him about the dangers of using imaginary mythological characters to bribe and blackmail your children with. So Agron tried to catch his husband’s eye, but for whatever reason he seemed to be avoiding him. Agron pushed down the sudden twinge of guilt and shifted a slightly pouting Ada higher in his lap who wriggled feebly in protest.

“You heard your father. Let’s get you to bed, then. You must be tired, I know I am.”

“’M not tired, Dad.” Her words came out a little muffled through the cotton of Agron’s sweatshirt where her face was currently buried.

“Of course you’re not,” Agron continued as he started towards her room, “But the sooner we get to sleep the sooner we get to open the presents tomorrow.”

 

*     *     *

 

Agron followed Nasir out of the room and back into the corridor, leaving the door slightly ajar behind him.

“Nasir, I…”

The man in question turned around once they got to the end of the hallway. He wasn’t smiling, but at least there was eye contact now; it was a start and Agron was ready to run with it.

“I could have really used you here this week, you know that, Agron?”

“I’m sorry, I really did–”

But his attempt at apology – and explanation, the storm back east and the delayed flights weren’t his fault after all – was swiftly deflected.

“Half the time I’m dealing with your crazy family, then today I find myself babysitting Brice when Crixus had some Christmas emergency he had to deal with, and the rest of the time I’m cooped up in this apartment with a crazy person who refuses to wear anything but your t-shirts and mopes around like you had just gone to war or something and not to some three-day boozing spree in Atlantic City.”

Agron was pretty sure that the amount of sarcasm in there meant that the other man was finally starting to thaw a little, but pretty sure wasn’t the same as _absolutely_ sure, so he decided to proceed with caution still.

“You mean the Annual International Association of Chiefs of Police Conference and Law Enforcement Education and Technology Exposition?”

“Isn’t that what I just said?”

And they had a winner. Okay, maybe just a ghost of a smile yet, but still enough to embolden Agron to take a hesitant step forward. And then a less than hesitant one, when he noticed something oddly familiar peeking from under Nasir’s sweater. He leaned in closer and gently tugged at the zipper in the front.

He raised an eyebrow. “Crazy person, huh?”

At least the other man had the decency to blush a little.

“Forgot to do the laundry. I’ve been busy.”

Agron smiled at that, which awarded him a poke between the ribs.

“Screw you,” Nasir said.

Agron was able to hold back the inevitable response, but not the grin, though, that would have been asking too much.

“I’ve missed you too.”

The kiss that followed was slow and lazy, both of them smiling a little too wide to make it deep enough. But it was good, and it was home.

They broke apart in a much more amicable silence and Agron turned to get his bag from the living room floor, when he caught the sight of the Christmas tree in the far corner. He stopped and looked at it for a second, a sigh escaping his mouth without him even realizing it.

“I should have been here to decorate that,” he said quietly, probably more to himself than to Nasir, even if the other man was just behind him. He felt arms snake around his waist and a brush of lips at the nape of his neck.

“If you’re expecting sympathy from me, you’ve come to the wrong place.”

Agron laughed softly, his hands finding Nasir’s, their fingers twining loosely. “It’s only her second Christmas with us, and I…I should have been here. You were right, I should have been here.”

He could feel Nasir exhale deeply behind his back, and the arms around him tightened for a second, before he let go and circled around him so that they were standing face to face again.

“It’s still only one day out of 365, Agron. And you’re here now, that’s what matters.” Nasir reached his arms around Agron’s neck this time and raised himself on his toes enough to give his lips a soft peck. “Anyway, Christmas is hardly over.”

Agron smiled at Nasir’s tone and the barely masked groan that followed.

“And I have a feeling I might have inadvertently invited half of San Francisco here for dinner tomorrow.”

“Inadvertently?”

Nasir groaned a little louder and leaned his face on Agron’s chest. “Blame your mother, she bribed me with promises of ready baked turkeys and blueberry pie.”

Agron chuckled and pulled back enough to take Nasir’s face in his hands and tilt his chin up to kiss him again. “You are such a Grinch,” he mumbled against his lips before he was coaxed back into another kiss, deeper this time, teetering on the edge of appropriate. Agron would have been more than happy to keep on going over that cliff, but his strained neck was objecting and so he pulled away reluctantly, rubbing the offended part of his body while casting an apologetic smile at the other man.

“Well, that said I think I’m ready for my present now,” Nasir said and let him go with one last soft peck and a newfound grin on his face. He took a step back and leaned against the armrest of the sofa.

“Your present?”

“Yup. And it better be something good, after the week I’ve had,” the other man answered and crossed his arms. “No, actually, it better be freaking _amazing_.”

“I thought you were not supposed to be a Christmas person?”

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever. I’m a present person, alright? So, come on…I’m waiting.”

Agron shrugged and went to fetch his bag as Nasir settled back on the sofa.

He had just opened the zipper, when he heard Nasir’s incredulous voice behind him again.

“You bought my present in Atlantic City?”

Agron grunted non-commitally and kept on rummaging through the contents of the bag until he found what he was looking for.

“For your sake, I hope that is a gift card, because I don’t–”

Nasir was cut off by Agron turning around on his knees waving a plastic back in front of him triumphantly and making his husband’s face drop even further, which was a feat in itself.

“Hey, don’t look at me like that. You know I suck at planning these things, and, well, this stuff is pretty good anyway. Here, look at this.” Agron fished the first item from the bag, throwing it over to Nasir. “A reflective vest, always useful, right?” Nasir just kept staring at him like he had sprung a second head. “Oh, and a pair of windshield wipers, that’s good on a rainy day like this.” He handed the package to the other man who was still eyeing him suspiciously. “Okay, okay, you’re going to like this one, though. Chocolate, your favorite.”

The silence stretched as Nasir stared at the last offered item in his hand.

“It’s a Mars bar, Agron. And it’s half-eaten.”

Agron sat back down a little deflated, his lips curling into a sheepish smile. He looked up, hand scratching the back of his neck, as he tried to come up with something cute enough to say to wipe that frown off his husband’s face. But then suddenly it disappeared all on its own as Nasir shook his head and gave a resigned sigh. He popped whatever there was left of the chocolate in his mouth, dumped the rest of his presents on the sofa and walked over to Agron on the floor. He knelt down, half straddling Agron’s legs, and smiled.

“You really didn’t think this present thing through, did you?”

Agron shook his head, smiling sadly.

“And you just bought all of that at a gas station?”

Nasir snuggled closer in his lap and Agron lost all coherent thought, especially once a stray hand found itself under his shirt.

“Mm-hmm.”

“You are the worst husband ever.”

Nasir tasted like chocolate and caramel, and Agron was more than ready to forget about everything else for the moment, but then a nagging voice inside his head suddenly made him remember something and he pulled back abruptly, leaving Nasir looking at him with surprise that was quickly turning into another frown.

“No, I _did_ buy something else!” He quickly exclaimed still a little breathless from the kiss. “From the airport.” He leaned back to reach for the bag again. “I had a lot of time to kill with all the delays, and so…let’s see…” He rambled on as his hand delved into the mess of shirts and boxer shorts until he finally pulled out a crumpled envelope.

Nasir who was still sitting halfway in his lap was now looking at him under a raised eyebrow as he slowly took the envelope from Agron’s hand.

“Just what I always wanted,” he muttered, but opened it up anyway, peering inside.

And then he didn’t say anything for a full minute.

Agron scratched the back of his neck again, unsure of whether or not he was expected to say something. “I know it’s a bit rash and too last minute and shit, but your DA gig doesn’t start until next week, and I’m due overtime, and I just thought, why not…”

He looked at his husband expectantly, but the man was still blinking at the paper in his hand, so Agron tried again. “Your brother’s still at Sorbonne, right? So, we can see him as well, make a proper family thing out of it, might even be able to tempt Maddie to take the train from Frankfurt. And I know it’s not ideal with a five-year-old, but I think Ada will love it all, and the flights are at night which should make it easier, and…” He was running out of breath – and ideas – so, he paused and finally sighed defeated. “Too much?” He started nodding to himself. “It is too much, isn’t it?”

“I thought you hated France?”

Finally, the man lifted his eyes to Agron’s, but it was a look Agron didn’t know quite how to read yet or how to correctly respond to, so he shrugged helplessly instead. It was a stupid question anyway.

“You’ve always said you wanted to go.”

He then saw the white of teeth peeking out the side of Nasir’s mouth, and was able to finally give a sigh of relief. This biting-of-the-lip-to-stifle-a-smile thing at least was something he _could_ read.

“You’re bribing me with a trip to Paris? Is this what our marriage has come to?” Nasir let the envelop drop to the floor beside him and rested his arms around Agron’s neck, scooting closer again. The battle against the budding grin was already over; the grin had won.

“If it makes you feel better, it all started pretty selfishly with me just being fed up with all the rain and fake snow on Christmas. I was sitting at the bar in the airport, and one of those news specials on TV was doing its travel edition from Paris, you know with all the lights and the Eiffel Tower and shit. And _snow._ And it looked like a proper Christmas, and well…the whole booking the flights and the hotel just sort of happened on its own after that.”

“So, you were drunk.” But Nasir’s tone wasn’t accusatory, and neither was the lips and teeth suddenly travelling up Agron’s neck catching him off guard. His breath hitched in his throat along with any retort he might have been thinking of giving.

“By the way, Ada was right, you know, this stubble of yours is a little on the rough side,” Nasir continued.

“I could go shave it now if you like.”

“The morning’s fine,” Nasir replied and smirked. And winked. And smirked a little wider.

“Oh, so it’s like that, is it?”

“Uh-huh.” Nasir leaned back on his heels, steadying his breathing and creating some much needed distance between them as things were dangerously close to slipping into non-PG territory. “We should put the presents out first, though, before we forget.”


End file.
